Monkey Business

Dear Boo and Bubble,

After hearing about some sort of clever shenanigans perpetuated by young people in order to waste time, great granddaddy Schaefer would always say “If we could just harness the interest and ingenuity of youth and funnel it properly, we could solve all the problems of the world.”  Or, as early 20^th Century radical and playwright Floyd Dell put it –

“Children are notoriously curious about everything, everything except... the things people want them to know. It then remains for us to refrain from forcing any kind of knowledge upon them, and they will be curious about everything.”

Teachers are uniquely positioned to experience the tenets espoused in both of these propositions and I was no exception in my brief career at Eastside High School.  On a daily basis, I witnessed enough monkey business to make me salivate at the possibilities of what might be achieved if only the energy were re-directed. 

Everyday during the third period, I oversaw a “study hall,” a term which I choose now to italicize and place in quotation marks because the concept was totally bogus.  For one hour I was charged with keeping the lid on twenty-five or so 15, 16 and 17-year-olds and monitor them as they allegedly “studied” their assignments.  As far as I was concerned, the more proper description was “Lack of Study Hall.”

One particular day, I found myself engrossed in a book and wanted to use the time of third period to pull it out and read.  When the bell rang, the students filed into the classroom and took their seats.  I had arranged the desks in a “U” formation which left an open space in the middle giving me space to walk around while I lectured my American History classes.  As they settled in, I proffered them a proposition.

“Okay, kids,” I said.  “I am really into this book and I want to read it during this class.  So here’s the deal.  I’m going to keep my head down and my nose in the book.  You can do anything you want to do as long as you don’t make a sound.  If I hear anything and have to look up, then it’s all over.  You will have to stop whatever you are doing and I will go around the room to see that you are working on your school work.  Is that clear?  Does everybody understand?”

They were non-plused at first and then a murmur of amusement filtered through the room.  With a quiet chorus of “yes ma’ams” and nods of the heads, we had a deal.  I took my chair, opened the book and was quickly absorbed into its pages.

For the next hour, there was not a peep, not even a cough or a squeak of desk movement.  I never heard the first sound and before I knew it, the bell rang signaling the end of the period.  At which point, all hell broke loose as the students grabbed their book bags and furiously scooted from their desks and vanished out into the hall. 

The fracas made my head jerk up quickly……..to find a five-foot tall pyramid of wadded up notebook paper balls standing in the middle of my classroom.  It was a marvel – and even more marvelous was the idea that somehow, without making even a hint of noise, they had miraculously organized and executed it right under my nose. 

I left it there for the remainder of the day for my other students to see.  Of course, my hope was that they would see it as a model of what could be accomplished when concerted effort, coordination and cooperation were applied to a situation.  I rather suspect, however, they saw it for what it was – monkey business.